


A Soft Place to Land

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [159]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Affection, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Good Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Feels, Love, Napping, POV Loki (Marvel), Reader-Insert, Sleepiness, Strength
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27464149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Loki muses over you, and the miracle of you, and when you wake up from a nap, it’s hard for him to think straight.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [159]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 21
Kudos: 174





	A Soft Place to Land

**Author's Note:**

> Ugggh, guys, it's happened. I straight-up did not realize that I've already given a fic a title that was incredibly similar to this one. I don't know if anyone would notice if I didn't say anything but uhhh whoops. In any case, I just really wanted to write something like this, wherein you're all sleepy and bleary-eyed after a nap and Loki is just mentally gushing over how freaking precious you are. I hope this does something for you!

Loki had never given much thought to the specifics of how his body differed from yours. He knew the basics, of course: his Asgardian physique gave him countless advantages over the average Midgardian. For one thing, was so much stronger than human men his size. He could lift you easily into his arms or put you over his shoulders, but you hated that. You insisted that he was going to hurt himself or drop you—or, more likely—both. For a long time, your lack of faith in him was painful. He tried to prove himself to you over and over again, but every time he did, he could hear genuine fear in your protests, and when he put you down, you always seemed somehow ashamed. Eventually, he did realize the actual source of your fear. It wasn’t that you thought he was weak; it was only that your experiences with human men made you think you were too large ever to be lifted so effortlessly into the air. So he did his best to push past his disappointment and accept the fact that you wouldn’t allow him to lift you into the air. He did stop picking you up, but he’d never stop sweeping you into his arms.

Another major difference was the amount of sleep that he required. He had no trouble getting by on just a few hours a night. Humans, however, needed seven or eight hours—or more! That was alright. If he woke in the morning before you did, that only meant that he had the luxury of lying there for a while and watching you sleep. He couldn’t get over it. You scoffed and make jokes (that weren’t truly jokes, were they?) about what a mess you must look like so early in the morning, or about how you must drool, or snore, or smell like stale breath. But that wasn’t true at all. It continued to bewilder him, how unkindly you spoke about yourself, but his fiercest attempts at convincing you otherwise only made you dig your heels in even deeper. Most of the time, he admired your stubbornness, but in this, you drove him crazy.

Because he would never tire of looking at you. He loved to watch you sleep, so peaceful and carefree. When he watched your eyes dart back and forth beneath your eyelids, he mused over what, exactly, you were dreaming about. Sometimes, as he watched, your lips would part with a gasp or a sigh, and his heart always beat a bit more quickly at that—were you waking already? Would you open your eyes and look at him with that warm, hazy, first-thing-in-the-morning smile?

Truly, he loved that smile. He loved all of your smiles. Even before he allowed himself to think that he might be worthy of touching you, he loved your smile. Whenever you stopped by the Tower, he’d find excuses to be near you. When you started noticing the way he lurked, you took to giving him a new sort of smile: just as warm and lovely as all the others, but with a certain new...something that drew him in. And now here he was. In your bed. In your home.

You didn’t only sleep at night. Now that you were more or less stuck at home with him, he couldn’t help but notice when you ducked into the bedroom for a nap in the late afternoon. Sometimes, he knew it was his fault. If he kept you awake too late at night, you were always a bit more tired during the day. But he’d gotten a taste of you, of the way you looked at him and grinned at him and gasped his name in the night. Surely one couldn’t blame him for wanting More. And you weren’t entirely innocent yourself: you never put your foot down, instead electing to indulge him in conversation or...other lovely delights until you began to drift off despite yourself. So sometimes you would take a nap in the middle of the day, dozing in bed or on the sofa as the light outside turned a little more golden. You assured him, over and over again, that he didn’t need to be especially quiet, that you’d never be upset with him if he happened to wake you. It was easy to tell that you felt a little embarrassed about, or guilty over, sleeping in the middle of the day. That knowledge, the understanding he’d come to have of the inner workings of your mind, both surprised and pleased him.

And he did his best to keep from waking you.

He found ways to occupy his time alone while you napped. He only seldom sat and watched you—only when you made those low, strangled sounds that warned of nightmares. He’d spend his time reading one of your books, or scrolling through your laptop (the internet was a fascinating place!) or experimenting in the kitchen. When he’d first had to resign himself to an existence here in Midgard, he’d been certain that his days would be terribly long and terribly dull, but he found plenty to do.

He was in the kitchen when you woke up late one afternoon. He’d been so engrossed in what he was doing that he’d nearly missed your soft footsteps, but something drew his attention to the doorway and he did not fight his smile. It was you. You looked a little bit rumpled, like you were still half asleep. Even without touching you, Loki knew exactly how your skin would feel—incredibly soft, and warmed with the fire that always burned within you as you slept. You lifted one hand to rub sleepily at your eye, and if he wasn’t absolutely gone for you already...

“It is my lady! O, it is my love! She looks as clear as morning roses newly wash'd with dew.” He was mixing his Shakespeare a bit, but you didn’t seem to mind. He put down the spoon he was holding so he could go to you and take you into his arms. That was another thing: when you were sleepy like this, you were especially pliant. He could hold you as close as he wanted for as long as he wanted, and you only ever leaned into him for support. You were perfectly capable of holding yourself up straight and strong, he knew, and that knowledge only made moments like this all the more precious to him. Because you could hold yourself upright, but you also trusted him to do it for you. You tucked your head under his chin and hid your face against his collarbone. Your arms slipped around his waist. He pressed his nose to the top of your head and drew in a deep breath of the sweet, warm smell of you. “Did you sleep well?”

“’m still sleepy…”

Would he ever tire of this? How could you let yourself be so soft with him? Your voice was a little rough with sleep, but innocence suffused your words. In these moments, your trust in him was almost palpable. You were defenseless here like this, and entirely at his mercy, but it was like it had never so much as occurred to you to feel anything but secure in his arms. It made him feel like he could, someday, be worthy of that trust. He rocked gently from side to side, leading you in an easy dance to music that could not be heard, and you let him. You let him. His chest felt tight, but he did his best only to breathe into it.

After some time, he pulled you in a little closer and lifted you into the air. You whined in protest, but before you could begin to struggle in earnest, he sat you on the edge of the counter. You narrowed your eyes at him, but, norns, you were still too groggy and precious to look even remotely threatening. He laughed quietly and parted your knees so he could stand between them, then dragged your lips down to his for a kiss.

“I found a recipe for a dessert. Sweets for my sweet. Will you help me?” And then he kissed the tip of your nose, because how could he _not_?

“What if I say no?” He heard something like a pout in your words, but it only made him laugh again. If only you could see yourself. Somehow, he fought the urge to kiss you again (and again and again and _again..._ ) and only fixed you with as stern a glare as he could manage. 

“Then you’ll just have to sit there and look pretty.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you started to reach for the spoon that he’d left on the counter, but he was faster and scooped it out of reach. “On second thought, that’s a better idea. Just say right there, darling, and inspire me with your beauty. Just like that...that’s perfect.” And even with the way you rolled your eyes at him, you were beautiful. His heart beat quickly in his chest. You couldn’t hide that smile from him.

The two of you worked together into the evening. A sense of cozy domesticity settled in around you, and Loki found that he was not terribly surprised by the peace that it brought him.

It was you. It was always you. You brought him calm and comfort and a soothing touch to ease the storms that whirled inside his mind. And when you picked up one of the freshly-baked treats cooling on the counter beside you and held it up to offer it to him, love shone brightly in your eyes. He moved in closer as though to take a bite, but, at the last moment, slanted his lips over yours and savored the surprised little giggle that escaped your mouth.

These moments sustained him. They were all he needed. _You_ were all he needed.


End file.
